Bonded By Blood
by Aegis
Summary: A Vampire Fanfic based in the World of Darkness by White Wolf. Characters are completly unique to this story, whereas locations and orgainizations, and disciplines ore owned by White Wolf. Please R/R.
1. Prologue

The footsteps rang with an eerie thud in the darkened warehouse

The footsteps resounded with an eerie thud in the darkened warehouse. How many times had he been here now? Seven, perhaps, and still he shuddered slightly at the ominous sound of his own two feet. Scattered crates and boxes were strewn all around the floor, some open, some bolted down tightly. From the ones that were open, he could see the weapons and narcotics bunched together. He couldn't help but wonder how these guys got it all through customs. The dull moonlight that found it's way through one of the many windows did little to illuminate the large open room, instead it cast shadows upon the wall, and did more to concern him then help him.

He neared the centre of the warehouse floor, and instinctively dropped his hand done to his waist, and the waiting pistol. He ran his thumb across the weapon feeling for the safety trigger, and with the familiar click, he turned it off. He cringed even at the slight noise created by his weapon, feeling even that was too much in this place. He didn't like it here at all, even for a man like himself. This was an unwelcome place. 

He stood immobile for a few minutes, waiting. He was scared out of his mind, but didn't show it. They could sense fear, and he didn't want them to suspect. It wasn't until his abnormally good senses picked up the other three men who had just entered the room. This was why he was here.

"Ethan Merek." The voice rang inside Ethan's head, and sent a shiver down his spine. He had done this before! This was nothing new to him, yet he was terrified this time. "We have warned you several times to leave the city!"

"You know I can't do that, Rashagal" When Ethan began to talk, he felt traces of his courage come back to him. "You know I cannot leave until the Sabbat is no more of a threat." The calmness of his voice surprised him. Until a few minutes ago, he was terrified, and thought he might run at the first sight of these ancient beings. Off to the side of the first man who spoke, he saw his two aides confer among themselves. He heard the muffled voices of both, and then saw them both smile, and chuckle. Obviously they were amused.

"You intend to take on the Sabbat, still!" The response was of utter disbelief. Rashagal was taken aback. "You still wish to take them on, even after they killed, and embraced your entire hunting party! Such courage and devotion from a mortal is…." Rashagal's face curled in thought. As he sought for the appropriate word to use. 

"…Promising." He grinned, but it turned sour as fast as it had developed. "Be warned though! You will have no more support of the Camarilla, as you allowed one of are Elders to die in your hunting pack. We will not oppose you in this venture though, for we wish to see the Sabbat's influence on this city gone as much as you." Rashagal turned, motioning to the two other men to leave. 

Ethan watched as the three Cainites left the warehouse, and uttered a small thanks to God. "Bloody Vampires…" He swore under his breath, wishing that he never got involved in this damned crusade. He turned in the dim light, and walked to the large doors of the warehouse.

Rashagal peered into the darkness where Ethan was standing just moments ago. The empty void seemed so appropriate. Even though he was a part of the Camarilla, he felt no need to protect the mortals. He was one of many in Cainite society that felt the mortals are nothing more then mere food. He quickly shrugged it off, and turned to his two aides.

"Follow him. I don't want him stumbling into something that could be dangerous to us." The two men nodded, and backed into the darkness, slowly disappearing from sight


	2. Contact

The dark alleyways New York were the perfect hunting grounds. Habetus easily managed to find waiting prey for him here, either by luring them to his waiting clutches, or just finding an intoxicated drunk stumbling in without realizing it. He had come hear often, feeding off those who wandered into his private little feeding grounds. The ancient vampire, though refined in his tastes, found feeding off the common rabble quite enticing. One of his sick perversions from years of being infected by the curse of Caine. He loomed here now, tapping his fingers patiently upon his knee. He sat upon one of the scattered dumpsters that always littered these alleys. With his other hand, he wiped a bit of blood that had trickled down his chin, a satisfied smile on his face. He casually looked over to his latest meal, a middle-class man, who had just pissed his money away in a sea of booze. Predictable cattle, thought Habetus to himself. He leaned his head back, and rested it gently against the wall behind him, barely aware of the silent footsteps making their way ever closer to the resting Cainite.

Ethan Merek held his powerful cross bow to the inner grove of his shoulder tightly. The silver tipped arrow glinted off the feint moonlight. He had been stalking this particular vampire for a few days now, knowing he was a member of the Sabbat, and thus a vampire he was charged to kill. He slowly made his way down the alleyway, careful not to disturb any of the trashcans that crowded the path. He stuck to shadows, clinging to them eagerly; knowing that to step would mean death. He felt the usual rim of sweat forming along his brow. To him, that was a good sign. He was building the adrenaline he would need to fight this vampire. In the few days Merek spent following his own prey, he had learned much. He knew that Habetus was the name, and that he wasn't a young vampire. Merek would have to be careful when dealing with this one.

When Habetus finally came into view of the Hunter, Merek raised his weapon, placing the sight in front of his eye, and tracing an invisible line to his targets heart. He careful adjusted his grip, as his palms were sweating, and making it difficult to maintain a solid grasp. He cocked the crossbow, placed his finger on the trigger. A click resounded in the alley. It seemed to echo more loudly then it should. He saw Habetus shoot up, a frenzied look on his face. Who dared to disturb him? It didn't take long for the experienced vampire to trace in on the human who was about to send a bolt of righteousness to him. Habetus sprang from his sitting position, and charged maniacally towards Merek.

Merek didn't flinch once. He watched as his prey sprang up, and even charged. The twang of the crossbow went off, and the arrow sped through the air, striking Habetus Square in the heart. Merek, feeling a bit more secure, dropped his crossbow to ground, intending to come back and retrieve it later. 

Habetus felt the arrow slam into his unbeating heart, and although it didn't kill him, it did slow him greatly. He felt his body seize up, and he began to loose control of his basic motor functions. His face portrayed that of a wounded animal. How it wanted to rip this mortal to pieces. He watched Merek close in on him, but could do nothing. Habetus's vision went red with frenzy as he struggled against the shaft in his chest. He saw the human draw a blade from his back, a long double-edged sword.

Merek raised the blade in the air over the immobile Cainite. HE swore a prayer to God, and brought his weapon down with a celestial fury, removing the snarling face from the now dead vampire. He raised the blade again, and wiped the blade clean. Another vampire dead. "Burn in hell" Merek kicked the corpse. He hated these creatures with a passion. He kneeled beside the limp creature, and began to search the pockets, looking for some piece of information he could use to find the local Sabbat Prince. He withdrew a piece of paper, and looked at it closely. It was nothing more than an idea, but it did list a name he could use.

"Marshall Brend" Merek said with a grimace. "It seems your next." He turned towards the end of the alley, and walked to his crossbow. He picked it up, and slowly made his way out of the darkness, each footstep resounding off the tight walls.


	3. Insight

"Merek again?"  
  
"Yes sir. The hunter seems intent on finding us, you specifically sir."  
  
Brend shifted his ancient form in his chair, resting his head on one of his hands. The name of Merek seemed somehow familiar to him, but from where? The ancient Cainite couldn't place the hunter's name. He rolled his eyes in frustration. The fact that the hunter had already sent many of his contacts on the street into Torpor seemed to infuriate the Sabbat vampire further. He rolled his eyes over to look at the fledgling that brought the news. "What do we know of this Merek?" He questioned, his head coming off his hands, and leveling with the other man. He dropped his hand down onto the arm of the chair.  
  
"Not much. We know he was part of a hunting party in the city." He finished, but then seemed to remember something. "As I recall, we found those particular hunters delicious." Added the fledgling with a malicious grin, and licking his lips, as if remembering. He watched as Brend's eyes flickered with recognition  
  
"Yes." Brend said softly. "I do remember him now. That blasted mortal had managed to convince an elder of the Brujah to join the hunt. He grinned as he remembered dismembering the body personally. El'rana had been a personal rival of his for centuries, and he finally had disposed of her. He stood from his chair, and paced past the other vampire, his hands folded across his back. "Do what you must. Try to embrace him. Otherwise," He turned to the vampire. "Kill him." He smiled again, and sent the fledgling out.  
  
*****  
  
Merek had gotten little sleep in the past few days, his mind completely occupied with hunting the Sabbat. He would wake in sweat often, or not even sleep. His nerves were on edge, and his temper was matching. He knew that if he were to remain restless, he would not be able to effectively hunt the vampires that took his entire hunting party. He was already wearing the Camarilla thin of patience, and would not be tolerated much longer within the city, unless he did something significant. He threw himself out of bed, and made his way in the dark to the bathroom. He turned the tap on, and cupping his hands under the flow of water, splashed some on his face. He raised his head and looked into the mirror. A bit of stubble lined his jaw, and his looked like he could've been one of the embraced.  
  
He splashed some more water on his face, and again looked into the mirror. He didn't see his reflection this time. His face was replaced by that of a woman. Long red hair draped her face, complementing the two piercing blue eyes, and delicate skin. He dropped his head, and a tear dropped down his cheek. He then looked back up, his calm expression replaced by anger. He struck the mirror, shattering it, and cutting his knuckles up. He then leaned onto the counter, ignoring the biting pain from the glass shards. He had failed her. He couldn't forgive himself. He had convinced her to join the hunting party, knowing she had no love for Cainites, but too much for him. It was his fault she was now one of the Sabbat. He turned away from the broken mirror, and slowly crept his way into bed, hoping to get at least an hour of sleep before the dawn. 


End file.
